


Picture

by goldenwanderer



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Next Generation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:26:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenwanderer/pseuds/goldenwanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a young Bering-Wells shows off her drawing skills to her mothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted as a comment fic on Tumblr. It was inspired by [this piece](http://spacegiraffesloveunicorns.tumblr.com/post/69735922672/on-the-b-b-fridge).
> 
> This story also introduces one of my Bering-Wells babies (and briefly mentions the other). So, obviously, this story takes place in the future. The focus is mostly on Helena and Theodora, but I managed to sneak in some Bering and Wells fluff toward the end.

"Mummy, don't look! I'm not finished yet!"

Helena lingers only a moment, not to catch a glimpse of her daughter's latest creation - the girl is currently sprawled out across it to hide it from view - but rather because she cannot resist teasing, just a little. Then she straightens and turns away from the table, moving to the couch with as much false innocence as she can muster.

Theodora turns her head to watch her, eyes narrowed. It isn't until Helena has sat for several minutes, sipping her tea and deliberately looking elsewhere, that the girl retracts her arms and resumes her drawing.

"May I ask what you're working on, darling?" Helena asks after another few minutes.

"Ask if you like, but I shan't answer."

Helena's mouth quirks up into a smile. _That_ is not something an ordinary American six-year-old says - or an American of any age, for that matter. She doubts Myka would approve of Helena's snark coming from their daughter's mouth, but right now she is too amused to care.

"Very well. I'll leave you to it, then."

"Thank you."

Well, the girl has manners. Myka would approve of _that_ , at least.

Helena takes another sip of tea, then sets the empty cup on the table beside her. Tipping her head back, she closes her eyes and lets herself drift.

Her next sensation is that of distant shouts and the unpleasant jolt beneath her that means someone has leapt on the couch (despite constant reminders that one ought to _sit_ on a couch, not _leap_ onto one).

Helena opens her eyes to the sound of, "Mummy, wake up! I'm done! Look!"

Before she has the chance to focus, Theodora is all but crawling on her as she thrusts her drawing into Helena's field of vision.

"See? That's us - you and me and Mommy and everybody."

Helena takes the paper from her daughter's outstretched hands. True enough, a line of figures covers the page, each with a handwritten name, beneath what appears to be the Warehouse.

Helena quickly represses the urge to grimace and correct the poor spelling. She grins with pride instead, truly impressed by Theodora's efforts.

"It's beautiful, my darling. I absolutely love it."

She turns to kiss her daughter's cheek, and is surprised to see that a sheepish, almost guilty smile has replaced Theodora's usual, gleeful one.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

The girl's face reddens slightly - a reflection of Myka, if Helena ever saw one. "I forgot Joanna and Abigail... and Trailer. So it's not really _everybody_."

Ah. Helena silently chides herself for not noticing the absence of her younger daughter in the drawing (she does not care so much about the missing dog or innkeeper). But now is hardly the time to dwell on such an oversight.

Helena needs only a moment to think. "Why, they're _inside_ the Warehouse, of course. Someone ought to be, don't you think?"

Theodora hesitates. She tilts her head just slightly, reminding Helena once more of Myka. "Just in Grandpa Artie's office, right? Joanna has to stay there, 'cause she's only four."

Helena nods. "But of course."

"Righty-ho then." She's only started saying that recently and it brings a smile to Helena's face every time - though not half so wide as the grin it causes on Myka. "Do you think Mommy will like it?"

"I _know_ she will, darling. Mommy loves _everything_ you do."

"She doesn't like it when I leave my shoes where people can trip on them or when I touch her work stuff."

"Cheeky." Helena forgets sometimes just how smart her daughter is.

She pulls the girl in for a hug. Then a devious smile flits across her face, only seconds before she reaches to tickle her daughter's stomach. Theodora giggles and tries to pull away, but Helena is too good at this.

By the time the door opens behind them, the pair have descended into fits of giggles and tickles.

"What's going on in here?"

Mother and daughter freeze at the same time, then turn to look up at the new arrival.

"Mommy! You're home!"

Helena lets Theodora scramble off the couch and into her mother's arms. Myka looks tired and in need of a shower - something Helena is already looking forward to - but smiles brightly as she pulls the girl in for a hug.

"Hey, sweetie. How's my big girl?"

"I made a picture."

"You did? Can I see it?"

"Sure."

Now standing nearby, waiting her turn (mostly patiently), Helena hands the drawing to her wife. "I have to warn you, it's quite good."

Myka smiles at Helena. "Of course it is. If Teddy drew it, I'm sure it's a masterpiece."

"Joanna and Abigail and Trailer are in Grandpa Artie's office." The explanation comes before Myka has even had a chance to look, but Myka nods graciously and examines the drawing as if gazing at a master artist's work.

"You even wrote our names," Myka gushes. She scoops the girl up in her arms and places a kiss on her forehead. "I'm so proud of you."

"So, can Mummy take me for a ride with the grappler tomorrow?"

Myka throws a questioning glance at Helena, who merely shrugs. "Mummy and I will talk about it, sweetie."

"Okay. Can I go play now?"

"One more kiss first."

Theodora obliges, then darts away as soon as Myka lowers her to the ground. Helena watches her go. When she looks back at Myka, her wife is staring at her, eyebrows raised and arms folded across her chest.

"I swear, this is the first I've heard of an ulterior motive. She said nothing to me."

"Uh-huh."

Myka looks unconvinced, so Helena opts for another tactic.

"Really, Helena? Trying to distract me with kisses?"

"Is it working?"

"I think I need a little more convincing."

"I may be amenable to that."

The drawing falls to the floor, forgotten.

They'll put it on the refrigerator... eventually.


End file.
